


Skyward

by Mind Of The Dragon (DreamingDragon)



Series: Skyward [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingDragon/pseuds/Mind%20Of%20The%20Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so another tale of Atlantis and her occupants. Well, two of them anyway. Previously posted on FFdotnet</p><p>This story is sad, I can not hide that fact as it hits you right away in the first chapter. To disclose anything would ruin the story so I ask you to keep an open mind and trust me. It is a major whumper, that's all I can say.</p><p>Thanks again to Jbpiggy, my beta with an iron will. An iron will to be able put up with my insane way of writing that is!</p><p>I hope you enjoy! And PLEASE comment, I get nervous when there are no comments! *big huge staring eyes looking at you* :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.

The sound of groaning metal greeted him as he emerged from dreamless slumber and reality came crushing down. Twisted metal could be seen embedded in trees. Small flames still puttered here and there while smoke rose lazily into air thick with the stench of oil, charred wood and an odour that McKay had become all too familiar with in his time in the Pegasus Galaxy, the coppery tang of blood. Some lights from the panels still flickered in a futile attempt to relay some message to a circuit that no longer functioned, intermittent sparks cascading from control panels.

Panic knotted his stomach as he took in the carnage around him. His body was pinned to the ground by the main bulkhead of the Puddlejumper. The shout that erupted from his mouth startled him but not enough to make him stop shouting for someone, anyone, to help him get out from beneath the twisted metal. His voice gave out after what seemed like hours, his throat raw and crying out for water to soothe it.

With his head pounding in time to his heartbeat, Rodney closed his eyes for a brief moment and began to drift in and out of consciousness. He knew this was happening because each time he opened his eyes the shadows had grown longer. One particular shadow caught his attention. It rippled like a stone had been thrown into it.

He tried to focus his concussed brain because he knew that shadows shouldn't do that, and as he looked closer he saw another ripple. Looking up from the puddle he saw an arm. A startlingly familiar arm and as he watched another drop of blood dripped from the fingertips down into what Rodney now knew was a puddle of John Sheppards blood.

He could see him now, thick black hair covered in dust that had helped hide him at first, his head twisted away from Rodney. Laid on his back, legs sprawled with his other arm twisted horribly under the pilots chair, John lay silent as a corpse.

Rodney tried to pry himself out from beneath the hulk of metal, but a fierce ache in his side stopped him instantly. Gasping in torment, having great difficulty drawing each breath in, images of the crash replayed through his mind unbidden.

The wraith dart that had surprised them as soon as they egressed the space gate. The fight that triggered the explosion that sent them spiraling down through the upper atmosphere. Watching it in slow motion in his mind he wondered how the hell he was still alive at all.

As the shadows deepened further he watched as the first stars winked into sight, only putting two and two together after a very long time; the roof was missing. Well not missing as it was pinning him to the deckplates of the Jumper. A canopy of tall trees swayed gently in a warm evening breeze that blew over his face, stirring the lingering traces of smoke within the cockpit.

He looked again towards John. There was so much blood it scared him, gradually bringing him to the only possible conclusion.

 _Shit._

The painful thought filled him with a deep sense of foreboding, his chest suddenly felt as if it had been put in a vice and it had nothing to do with the large chunk of metal pinning him down. He began to struggle under the metal as a deep and overriding panic set in, frantically he tried to pull himself free. Claustrophobia made him grunt in fear, but something in his side stopped him moving. Changing the position of his hands on the debris, he encountered a warm slick patch spreading out in pattern from the ache in his side. Not wanting to deal with that at the moment he tried to move his legs up and under the metal beam in order to gain extra leverage. This attempt was in vain as he couldn't see what he was doing and his legs were so cold they were numb.

Huffing in despair he turned to look at his best friend. John Sheppard lay there, the strong arm just out of reach. Mere inches separated them but it might as well have been a galaxy. All Rodney wanted at this moment was to touch his friend and prove his overactive imagination wrong. A simple crash in a Puddlejumper could not snuff out the mighty Shep. He cursed aloud at his inability to free himself.

He closed his eyes tight, attempting to force the rising panic and feelings of utter hopelessness from his mind as he knew hysteria would not help him. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes no matter how hard he scrunched them, the attempt to dam the flood in vain as fear and grief took over.

His eyes remained closed for some time as his mind took him back to earlier, sitting in the puddle jumper, facing the active Stargate.

 _"Ok, systems are go and gate is active. Shall we go join the barn dance?" John said with that stupid cocky smile on his face._

 _He barked off a snarky return, the last thing he wanted to do was go to an agricultural world and fix their stupid version of a tractor, even if said tractor was as big as a semi and so advanced that it could help farmers in the third world manage larger crops. He just wanted to get into that new box of delights they had found on the last mission a few days ago, and John knew it._

 _"Come on Rodney, how bad can it be, huh?"_

The image of John, his face alive and animated, jolted Rodney from his memory, back to the stark reality of a universe without his best friend. That and a sudden stab of pain from his side. He was almost grateful for the pain as it took his mind from the ache in his heart. He slid a hand under the roof hull plate to touch his side gingerly. He knew the instant his hand came into contact with his side that he was bleeding to death, or would if help didn't arrive soon. He could feel the large jagged piece of metal that was lodged deep within his body and the sluggish flow of blood that seemed to be oozing from the wound.

"Where the hell were your famed flying skills today, Mr Bedhead? You've doomed us both to rot here." The words were out of his mouth before he heard them and the instant wave of guilt would have floored him if he wasn't already laying on his back.

His head would not accept the finality of this existence, this fate, could not accept it. John Sheppard could not be dead. He forced himself to calm and began to speak aloud and tell the Colonel's deaf ears his thoughts. In his ramblings he almost believed that John was sitting beside him, agreeing or disagreeing with a nod or a shake of his head, and this comforted him somewhat.

And so Rodney McKay spoke of their successes, and failures, in order to keep himself sane while he lay dying on a planet far from home.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

"I thought the day would come when I would be mortally wounded, you know, heroically mortally wounded, saving a princess or something equally...heroic. But no, I die on the way to fixing a Pegasus style bloody tractor! I mean, it's not as if we were on a rescue mission, or something spectacular that would befit my status and carry me into legend, or the annals of science. No, I will die as a result of farming. Farming!" Rodney ranted.

"Why me? Why is the most important person on Atlantis flying down to a small time agricultural village to fix a tractor? Because everyone else is doing something meaningful while I am stuck on a three hour jaunt with Major Pain-In-My-Ass as company! Yes I know it is Colonel, but you are a MAJOR pain in my ass!" He paused to regain his breath but the silence did not last long.

"Oh no you don't! Don't you shake your head at me, John Sheppard. You know you annoy the hell out of me and I swear you do it on purpose. Hell, I could even believe that you died here on purpose just to piss me off."

He broke off from his ramblings to look again at John's lifeless figure, wishing that his ranting would somehow rouse him. He knew his rants often irked John to the point of distraction. There were times when his rants were perfectly justified, but sometimes he did it on purpose because he knew it annoyed the dark haired pilot.

"Just my luck that we be hit by a chunk of red hot flying debris from a flaming wraith dart, pun intended, moments after it exploded. Still, would have been nice if it had exploded before it had fired upon us, then perhaps the damage wouldn't have been so bad. I mean, where the hell are we anyway? Are we even on the same continent as the Ergcarl settlement? Only you could find a Wraith dart just about to dial out of a gate we just dialed in. Honestly John, you could find trouble in an empty, vacuum sealed room."

He tried to remain angry, but it felt wrong. He should not be angry with the... he could hardly even think the word.

The misplaced anger fueled another futile attempt to free himself. The fire the effort ignited in his side sent the breath rushing from his body, halting his struggles. With each aborted attempt to move the metal pressing down on him it became harder and harder to concentrate. Each time his eyes closed, longer periods of time disappeared.

As his body became chilled and his thoughts began to wander, imaginary John began making more appearances in his minds eye. At this moment he could see him sitting upon the crushed metal at the back of the ruined jumper staring at the hands he rested upon his knees.

"John?"

The figure looked up and smiled that huge cocky smile that made girls weak at the knees and Rodney jealous beyond belief.

The figure of John looked to the sky questioningly.

"Yeah John. We fell from the sky. I can not believe that you of all people could not out maneuver a dart. I know he took us by surprise and everything, but you are...well...better than them. When he hit us and the drives went down, I still knew you could do it. But then it exploded. Just enough to throw us into gravity's realm and pull us down."

John bowed his head in what Rodney took as an apology.

"Wasn't your fault John. How were we to know that there was damage to the drone launch system, that when you fired it would rip the jumper apart? God but you are a sanctimonious ass. You are not, despite all seeming that way, a hero of the air."

Rodney heard a sound above him. He looked up into the brightening sky to see a large bird fly over head, probably coming back to roost after a night of hunting. He watched it as far as he could see, wishing he was able to join it, but those wishes only brought a hollow feeling of remorse as he thought of the broken bird that lay three feet from him.

John Sheppard loved to fly. Be it a casual flight or them fleeing for their lives, Johns face was filled with wonder and freedom when flying, like a child given free reign at a toy fair.

The feeling that he had when he thought he would never see that look again, nor the cheeky smile or the sparkle of mischief in those green eyes. Words could not describe it. A trickle of wetness smeared at the edge of his eye, as he thought of how perhaps John was the bird over head. That somehow he had achieved the ultimate flight, reveling in the wind beneath his wings.

"Oh McKay, you really are losing it now." He said to himself.

The figment of John looked at him with sorrow in his eyes.

"No." Rodney said quietly. "You are not dead, not to me, not yet."

The figment turned away and stared back at his hands as Rodney looked up at the sky above him, his eyes glazing in memory.

 

 _"Clear blue skies. All my troubles, just drifting away. Ok, stop talking now."_

 _"Rodney you're a good person. Know that we love you."_

 _"You love me? Really? All of you?"_

 _"In the way a friend feels about another friend."_

 _"You're just saying that because I'm gonna die...Oh God, I can't believe I'm gonna die!"_

 _"Alright, just back to the blue skies."_

 

"God, I remember that time I took the blast from that damn ancient machine trying to, yet again, save the damn city. That time from complete power loss, but still, saved city!"

Figment John rolled his eyes at Rodney's typical ego trip.

"Those super powers were so cool, wish I could have kept some of them! But then things went wrong, and of course, you were there.

"Try meditation Rodney, try to ascend Rodney." Gah. You were so concerned and believed that I could do it so much that I almost believed it myself. You are such a damn prick, do you know that? Calmly knocking out suggestions and trying to help while I fall to pieces. Always there huh? You would not do my eulogy for me? What the hell?"

His eyes were getting heavy. It was taking longer to waken and remain conscious for any length of time. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them of the weights dragging them closed.

"I get that actually, I know why you didn't want to do my eulogy. Funnily enough, I suppose if it were me, I would have been the same. . . . What are you sniggering at? I am not just the egotistical lunatic you all seem to think I am. I have feelings...somewhere."

Rodney looked away from the figment, feeling stupid for his outburst to someone who did not exist.

"I was invincible you know. Completely invincible. The powers that machine gave me let me feel like I could do anything. I only wish I had a fraction of those powers now. Maybe..."

He sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the time when he almost ascended.

"You wouldn't let me go. You couldn't accept I was on my way to complete and finite meltdown. Damn but you kept me going, day in and day out with meditation and such. I've often wondered why."

Figment John looked at him, his eyes conveying that Rodney knew why.

"I get it. I do, really. I just feel that I was never worthy of such friendship."

His hallucination laughed a silent laugh and shook his head.

"Ok, ok. Can I be honest here? When you turned up at the Antarctic base that day with Jack O'Neil, I really didn't like you that much. Strolling in as if you owned the place, your smug little face on your spinning head taking in every detail. Then you managed to activate the chair beyond anything we had imagined, without added help from ancient devices, and got your self an instant pass to something I worked my ass off for. Well, I admit, I was a little jealous of you, who wouldn't be, huh? The swaggering gait, the charm filled face full of calculating intelligence. You just irritated me, I suppose as much as I irritated you. But it all changed when we started going on missions and hanging out."

The jealousy and bitterness had long left Rodney McKay's mind. He regarded John as close a friend as one could ever have, even though he never voiced that sentiment, not once.

"Bickering brothers Teyla once called us. I was offended by that to begin with but then I realised how true it was."

John was still staring at his hands, as if he couldn't hear anything that Rodney was saying.

"I'm pouring out deep emotions here! Things I would never dream of saying if you were alive! The least you could do is acknowledge them!"

His mind was warping his perception and it was getting to the point that this John, this figment, was just as real as the one laying a few feet from him.

Reality was out of kilter and Rodney was unsure if this was due to his injuries or his own mind. But it was helping him to forget the pain he was in, stopping him thinking about the blood slick that felt so much worse than earlier.

Figment John cocked his head to the side in a curious look as Rodney's eyes fluttered momentarily.

"I'm just tired, don't worry. I just need to sleep...I just..."

As his eyes closed, figment John fuzzed and disappeared as Rodney relaxed into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

A noise drew Rodney, mumbling, from his uneasy slumber. It took a few moments to push back the heavy grasp of deep sleep. He reached up to scrub the sleep from his weary eyes before finally opening them to the hazy early morning mist that the sun coaxed from the planet. The bird he had associated with Sheppard was back, perched on a broken tree limb in the canopy above. It squawked its greeting to the new day before beginning to preen itself.

Rodney watched as it fastidiously cleaned each and every feather. Once done it turned its eyes to examine the witness to his normal morning routine. They regarded each other for a long time, both trying to imagine what it was like to be the other.

Rodney moved in an attempt to ease his stiff muscles, only to pull agonizingly at the wound in his side. The bird flew off in fright as McKay vocalised his pain, long and loud. He squeezed his eyes shut while sucking in air through clenched teeth, as a sheen of cold sweat formed all over his body. When the pain subsided to a tolerable level, he gingerly placed his hand to the wound, horrified at the sticky wetness that seemed to cover the entire side of his body. He was glad he could not see the wound, although having it hidden beneath the hulk of metal pressing down on him was giving his mind free rein on imagining worst case scenarios.

Something flickered to the right of him and when he looked, there was Imaginary John sat in the same place as yesterday, staring at the hands in his lap.

"Back again, huh?" He asked his illusionary friend. "Glutton for punishment if you ask me."

John nodded.

"Crystal blue skies." He murmured as he returned to staring at the sky above. The words jolted a memory and he chuckled lightly.

 

 _"Looks like some kind of, eh, natural crystalline growth. I think this might be what's causing the energy readings."_

 _"Pretty."_

 _"Looks like one of those toys you play with when you are a kid."_

 

"Remember that stupid crystal entity? The one that made our normal nightmares seem like children's stories?"

John looked towards him and nodded.

"Trust you to be the one to touch the damn thing. I mean, it is as if trouble follows you around waiting for an opportunity to kick your ass. Still, you made up for your idiocy in the end, albeit with some help from yours truly. That was pretty damn heroic by all accounts, given that I had just survived a cardiac arrest!"

Figment John laughed his silent laugh and looked at Rodney teasingly.

"It was heroic! And I will have you know, mister, that I have saved your butt as many times as you've saved mine!"

Figment John raised an eyebrow in a look of disbelief.

"The wraith enzyme! When Ford tricked you all into helping him bring down a Hive, it was me who took the wraith enzyme to get back to Atlantis to try and save you guys!

Actually, that was a rather stupid idea to be honest, it nearly killed me. Big big dose...anyway I remember feeling completely God like, only I was dying at the same time so perhaps that may have merely been exploding brains cells that caused that."

He lowered his eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

"Still, it was all good while it lasted. We can't help each other out of this one." He whispered bitterly. He felt so helpless and useless it was driving him insane.

"What good am I, huh? I can't even get out from under this thing to see if you are alive or not!" he shouted in frustration as he pounded his fist into the metal above him. This sent shock waves of pain coursing through his body as the vibration transferred from the girder through his wound and into his very core.

When he could breathe again he looked to find Figment John gone. His eyes darted back and forth nervously. He didn't really want to look upon the real John again, but could not stop his eyes from finally resting on the fallen man.

John lay as still as ever, a constant reminder to Rodney that his own life was in a perilous situation. The blood that had trickled down his arm to drip into the pool had long since dried into a crusty trail.

"John?"

"John?"

Alone and afraid, he began to notice a slight trembling in his body. He was starting to shake with cold that seemed to be coming from the ice in his bones. His small base of medical knowledge told him what it meant, but for some reason he wasn't scared. The terror he would normally feel in this kind of situation seemed to have died along with John.

"We went looking at whales together once, do you remember that?" He said, licking his dry cracked lips as he finally tore his eyes away from John's body, saying the first thing that had come into his head. "That time they were coming towards Atlantis and no one knew why? The damn things screwed with our heads so bad with their stupid echolocation, our ears were ringing for days. And that was not the only time we had an encounter with those massive beasts. You managed to find me when that puddle jumper went down in the ocean. Sam the whale guided you to me like frigging Lassie. Did I tell you I went half mad down there, Sam making booming noises outside the ship, and Sam making eyes at me inside the ship...actually, forget that last bit...In fact, I shook as hard then as I am now! But that was hypothermia, this is...different."

Rodney watched the clouds flit across the small window he had upon the sky, gathering his thoughts and strength before he continued.

"When I think about it, you really have saved my ass, and others, more times than I can count. Rescuing us from Wraith ships. Defeating Kolya and his henchmen. Outsmarting an intelligent computer virus intent on destroying us, hell you even saved me and my sister a few times.

Actually, speaking of Jeanie, that reminds me! That time that I...well, the other me, Rod, came from that alternate reality? You all made me feel like a substandard jerk in comparison to him.

I mean, was he so much better than me? Of course he was. I'm just an ego driven maniac to you all. But you all mean so much to me! Still, I suppose I only have myself to blame for that.

"Years of pushing people away and I couldn't change over night. But I have changed, well, I think I have, anyway. I would do anything for you guys if I could." He stared off into the sky, remembering a less than appealing memory.

"But then, I did standby as you were fed upon by a wraith at the hands of Kolya. Stood by as Elizabeth denied Kolya his demands, time after time while watching as your life force was stolen from you. I saw the pain you went through, saw the agony tearing at your body as the years fled. But I did nothing to stop it. I did nothing to help you though it tore me into pieces to watch." Rodney suppressed a shudder. The mere memory making his stomach clench in self hatred and guilt.

He looked at John, so close yet so far away. He had to touch that arm, had to find out once and for all if the man he called friend was truly gone.

He stretched out his arm, wary of the pain he knew would come but in dire need to have some form of physical contact. Taking as deep a breath as he could, he held it then forced himself the few extra inches.

His shriek echoed back to him as he felt his flesh tear, the cold drying patch of blood on his shirt suddenly warmed at an alarming rate. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he opened his eyes. The pain he had suffered was in vain as the hand was still out of reach.

His fingers were so close, so damn close, yet so far away. The effort of moving so little and fighting his pain had left him drained.

"It...wont...be long, John...not much longer..."

As the sky began to darken into night again, Rodney fell into his own dark oblivion with a shuddering sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

McKay was surprised when he awoke. He hadn't expected to see the sky again, even if it was only a blur above him. It was early morning, the sun was low in the sky and rising to the chorus of the local bird life. That made it two nights they had lain here without rescue. Two nights that Sheppard hadn't moved an inch.

A growl escaped his lips when he moved to try and look at John. Vertigo assaulting his senses and his stomach threatened to revolt. He felt so damn weak, unable to even lift his arm without a great deal of effort. His side was a mass of torture, the pain no longer ebbing and flowing, now it was a constant source of agony.

As the light from the new day filtered into the broken jumper Imaginary John came into view. Closer than before, he crouched down beside his own body, looking for all the world like he was mourning.

"Have you come to watch me die?" he asked stoically. Figment John did not answer.

 

 _"Hit me with the defibrillator."_

 

"I watched you die once." Rodney whispered, remembering the time the Colonel had requested they kill him. John looked at him inquisitively.

"You had that...that stinking Iratus bug attached to your neck, nothing could get it off. I know I paraded around like some pompous idiot, but that was actually because it scared the shit out of me. Not because I was scared for me, it was you I was scared for. Then you had that idiotic, hair-brained, idea to stop your heart."

Figment John chuckled and moved closer.

"Damnit John, it's not funny! We were watching you fade away in front of us. Do you think that's easy to watch!"

John's face turned serious again and he looked back at his hands.

"Still, I guess you know that, huh? You all watched me fading, when that...that parasite was in my brain."

John nodded.

"You were the only one who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I was worth something even when I knew I was losing my mind and speaking gibberish."

A violent shiver shook his body and he closed his eyes.

 

 _"John? JOHN!" He cried as he ran down an empty corridor._

"God I was so scared. I remember that time. I know I keep saying that I remember nothing but fragments, but I remember everything. I remember being so damn scared that I was willing to die to put an end to it. I saw my life disappearing, my mind leaving me every minute of every day."

Even now the memories were painful, still left him shamefully vulnerable.

"But I also remember the pain and fear on your face every time you came to see me."

 

 _"Hey pal."_

 _"Hey J-John."_

 _"Truth is, ah... we don't ...know exactly what's going to happen to you, but we're willing to try if you are."_

 _"..'kay."_

 _"Okay, okay, well that settles it then..."_

 

"Some days you looked sad, other days you looked as if I was already gone and you were grieving. I often wondered why you reacted that way, but my mind was so far gone I was lucky if I remembered where the bathroom was, never mind work out what you were thinking." He laughed a bitter laugh as he remembered some of his darkest times.

"And then, one day, long after I got better, I understood. I tried to put myself into your shoes, to see what happened then, what you were feeling. And that is when it came to me. I tried to imagine myself, looking at you as a bug slowly stole your mind, your very personality away, and I found myself scared beyond belief. You acted in my best interest, just like Jeannie did. Just like family. And you know I'd do the same for you, right?" Figment Johns nod brought a sigh of relief whistling past Rodney's lips.

"Beer on the pier. You remember that night? You have no idea what that meant to me. I saw you for what you were that night, someone more than a friend, in a platonic and truly manly way. We connected as equals, something no one has been able to really do before, not with me, and that is when I realised we were more than just comrades or...or...team mates. We had a deeper connection. I think as a team we all have that connection in a way. And I am truly proud to have been a part of that team."

 

 _"How's about...how about we say goodbye now?"_

 _"No."_

 _"What'd you mean no?"_

 _"I mean I'm not saying goodbye."_

 _"Well I'm saying it anyway."_

 _"Well I'm not listening!"_

 _"Yeah, but pretty soon I won't even know who you are!"_

 _"Then I'll remind you."_

 

His heart broke, warm tears ran down his cold ashen face. He realised what he had lost in a moment of irrefutable blinding truth and his body shook harder with the sobs that wracked his body. Even the pain in his side couldn't stop this outpouring of grief.

 

 _"You're stuck with me Rodney, just accept it."_

 

Not only was his vision blurred, it now was framed as a blackness began encroaching on the edges. The fact was his time was almost up, and he knew it.

Resting his head as comfortably as he could, his eyes began to flit lazily back and forth as they searched the sky for the giant bird he could hear squawking in the morning air. His breathing had slowed, short raspy breaths escaped his dried cyanosed lips. Overhead, the giant bird flew past.

A long blue swirl left the bird as it disappeared, slowly floating downward toward him.

The feather landed on the floor at the side of his head and he stared at it as if it was the only thing in the world. The iridescent colours fascinating him as the downy after feather and the rachis swayed in the wind, until it was pulled back into the air drifting out of sight. His eyes continued to stare where the feather had sat, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the apparition of John Sheppard slowly crawling towards him across the blood splattered metallic floor.

His eyes unfocussed as he let his mind drift, imagining he was floating away like the feather.

The warm touch he felt as a hand grasped his neck, in comfort, didn't even register at first. It wasn't until the hand moved and touched his face that he looked up, straight into the eyes of John Sheppard.

"I... think...I think it's time... John."

John shook his head, before getting slowly and unsteadily to his feet.

"I'm just not...making it home...not this time."

He smiled up at the John his mind had made and was glad his imagination had brought forth the creation so that he could see his friend once more. To tell him what he truly meant to him.

John was pointing at something, yelling soundlessly, but Rodney only smiled.

His vision darkened as his dimming world shattered with the convulsions that suddenly shook his entire body. His head jerked backward and his teeth clenched around an all encompassing scream of pure agony. He no longer felt the pressure on his torso, but a fire of epic proportions had just started burning in his legs. Tiny explosions, setting off bigger and bigger ones, fired off up and down his lower limbs extracting whimpers from his now pain overloaded body.

He heard a metallic thud that echoed through the deck plates and turned his head to the side, vaguely realising that the blood streaked silver thing beside him had once been the hull plate that had literally pinned him to the floor.

Again he felt the hand on his neck, roughly pressing against his skin frantically.

Then, in a strange moment of puzzling silence, all time seemed to cease. His mind tuned everything out except the sky above. He could see the big blue bird on its return flight, followed by an identical bird which flew in a lazy circular pattern above the other.

It reminded Rodney of the connection his rambling mind made with the bird and John with his lazy trademark saunter and he was suddenly pulled back into a reality of pain and confusion.

"John? JOHN!" He tried to shout, his breath wheezing in and out, eyes searching for the man his mind had created.

There he was, wordlessly speaking to him, but his face had changed. A huge gash now ran down the side of his face following the line of his cheek. A lump of hair and skin were missing from the front of his head, a gruesome addition to the normal bedhead effect. The eyes that had been so clear were now bloodshot and the flesh surrounding them swollen, but they still conveyed the emotions that Sheppard tried so hard to hide. The hands that Figment John had so solemnly stared at were now dirt and blood encrusted. One arm was hanging uselessly at his side.

Rodney's eyes were drawn to the flakey trail of dried blood that snaked down the useless arm. In that moment it dawned on him that this was no mere illusion. This was really John Sheppard, alive and staring at him with large scared eyes so full of concern that it astounded him. His left hand reached up and gripped John's arms in a moment of pure relief that left him feeling even more drained when it left. Lacking energy to keep it there, Rodney let the hand fall where it may.

John was pulling out a field dressing from his BDU's as Rodney fought just to keep breathing.

"...eed...sid...ney..."

Rodney just stared confused at the friend he thought he'd lost, he could hear John's voice but couldn't spare the energy to make out what he was saying.

"Han...n...ere...buddy..."

"John?" Rodney asked stupidly.

"I'm here buddy, just hang in there."

These words filtered slowly through to his dulled brain just as John forced a dressing to Rodney's side, bringing a shriek that left Rodney's mouth before he passed out, leaving the planet and John behind.

.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

A heavy darkness had smothered him for more time than even he knew, suppressing him under its heavy grasp. As consciousness returned, a world of pain came with it, gnawing at his body incessantly.

His head was filled with noise and pain and he grunted as he tried to gather his thoughts. Snatches of sentences mumbled as if through a fog, fragments of a conversation he should be privy to, echoed in his ears, tugging him towards consciousness.

"Have you come to watch me die?"

It wasn't so much the words as the way they were spoken that made the last pieces of darkness leave him and his blood run cold. He knew he had to move, to speak, to do something. Even if it was only to tell McKay that he was not allowed to even think like that.

Movement bought a world of hurt radiating throughout his body, the epicenter being a useless twisted arm that even to John looked really, really, bad. As he lay there breathing through the pain, he listened as the voice continued its fading monologue, wishing his breathing would settle down enough and his brain would kick-start his voice.

"You were the only one who made me feel safe..."

Breathing deeply, he focused all his will power into moving muscles that had cramped from the awkward positions they had been forced into. The inferno that burned in his arm was only rivaled by the pounding in his head each time he tried to open his eyes.

He tried to get up, barely making it off the ground before losing a battle with nausea. His body dry heaved, sending fresh torment throughout his tortured frame. As the waves of nausea left him, he collapsed back to the ground, unable to stop the dizzying feeling in his mind from darkening his already blurred vision.

" I am truly proud to have been a part of the team."

As his vision finally cleared, he searched the area around him from his prone position. Catching a glimpse of the ashen faced man not three feet away from him, he could see Rodney pinned in the shattered remains of what had once been the cockpit of the puddlejumper.

He watched as Rodney's head had turned slowly to the side, eyes almost seeing him until they focused on a bright blue feather that landed between them.

"I'm coming, buddy." He whispered as he began the arduous task of closing the distance between them.

When he finally reached Rodney, John was almost sure that he had already gone. He placed a hand to his neck then gently shook his shoulder, fighting back tears when Rodney's eyes turned towards him with a glazed look, seeing but not seeing.

"I... think...I think it's time... John. I'm just not...making it home...not this time."

John couldn't breathe as a momentary panic clouded his mind and stole his breath. All he could do was stare, slack-jawed, as Rodney smiled up at him, exhausted. Shaking his head, John refused to believe that Rodney was dying right before him.

Once again he forced his aching body to rise again. Wavering slightly he reached down to grab hold of the metal plate that had McKay trapped beneath it. Bracing himself he lifted the plate, straining to pull its weight up and onto his shoulder. He howled in agony each time he jostled his damaged arm but used the pain and the anger to his advantage. The added adrenalin aiding him.

Blanking out the unearthly scream of torment echoing from Rodney, he awkwardly managed to pivot then push the plate away with his good arm, letting the metal clang on the ground. Turning, he began to visually assess his friend, cataloging the injuries he could see and hoping beyond hope that there were none he couldn't see.

The first thing he saw was the deep hole with ragged edges that shouldn't be in Rodney's side. The practical side of his brain took over the assessment at this point as the friend in him shied away from wanting to see anymore injuries. Carrying on down McKay's body Sheppard felt his stomach lurch when he saw the legs that the panel had hidden. Both were twisted at odd angles in more than a handful of places.

 

 _"It's no use, Rodney! Get back here and strap in! "_

 

Swallowing down the bile John limped slowly back towards his team mate. The blood that had flowed from the gaping wound in Rodney's side, had made the floor viscous and slippery. John being anything but his normal stealthful self ended up coming down with a bang that shot a spasm through his body until his head rang and colours filled his mind that crowded his vision. He was pretty sure he blacked out for a few moments before the colours faded and reality came back into focus.

"John? JOHN?"

"I need to stop the bleeding, Rodney." He spoke calmly, trying in vain to hide the terror he felt for McKay.

Rodney stared at him intensely, now seizing his arm in recognition and desperation before his strength seemed to fade and his arm fell limply to the deck plate beneath him.

"I'm here buddy, just hang in there."

He pressed the dressing firmly to Rodney's wound and clenched his jaw as he listened to the shriek of pain that burst from his friends lips before his eyes rolled back and he fell silent.

John somehow managed to pull the unconscious scientist onto his lap. The position allowed him to both monitor his friends pulse and staunch the bleeding in his side, but neither action seemed to be of much use.

Gingerly leaning back against the only intact panel on this side of the jumper, he began to survey their surroundings. What he saw shocked him and he couldn't understand how they had even survived the impact let alone survived a night here.

A cool breeze toyed with his hair, cooling his face, as he looked back down at Rodney.

The slack face frightened John so much that every few moments he checked McKay's heartbeat with trembling fingers, each time taking longer to locate the thready pulse. He knew that his friend was closer to death than he had ever seen him, he also knew that he could not save him this time. There would be no Hail Mary for them, and that left him bereft of emotion.

He sat there for a long time just listening to Rodney's ragged breathing, willing each breath to come whenever the rhythm faltered. His head ached fiercely and his eyes burned, irritated by the light of the sun as it moved across the sky. Wearily he leaned his head back, closing his aching eyes and allowing his mind to wander away from this nightmare.

The memory of a voice spoke at the back of his mind and though he knew the words, he had no idea who had uttered them or when.

 _"You are not dead, not to me, not yet."_

The words seemed like pieces of a puzzle whose box John had never seen. Try as he might he could not place them.

 _"I would do anything for you guys if I could."_

It was there, he knew it, but the answer eluded him as his body cried out for the rest it so desperately needed and his tired mind slowed towards sleep.

 _"It was you I was scared for."_

His gut suddenly clenched as he realized who had spoken the words and when.

 _"Just like family."_

He opened his eyes and looked down at the man who had poured his heart out while John had lain less than a meter away from him, unconscious but still aware on a basic level.

A tear rolled lazily down his cheek, startling him. Once that tear had fallen, a deluge followed and he grieved for the friend that he knew would not be coming home.

 

 _"I don't want you to see me like that, I want you to remember me as I am, as your genius friend, not as some..."_

 _"Not happening."_

 _"Please?"_

 _"You're stuck with me Rodney, just accept it."_

 _"Yeah but..."_

 _"No!...That's final"_

 _"Okay."_

 _"Okay._

 _"You're a good friend, Arthur."_

 

John's mouth quirked up in a sad smile, the memory caught him off guard and threw his mind back to a time when he had had the chance to say goodbye.

"I'm not a good friend Rodney." He said quietly, shaking his head.

 _"Sure you are."_ He imagined Rodney's answers.

"No, I'm not." .

 _"What are you then?"_

"I dunno."

 _"Then what am I?"_

"My brother." The words had left his mouth before he even realised what he was saying. He cradled Rodney closer, pulling him nearer as the utter desolation hit him, closing his eyes against the pain.

A noise woke him from a sleep he hadn't intended to take. His mind sluggish and foggy, and his body shivering as the sun had disappeared behind brewing storm clouds. He dazedly looked around, searching for the source of a sound he wasn't even sure if he heard. This small movement taxed his already depleted energy and within moments his head was nodding back onto his chest and his eyes closing once again.

Before he drifted off completely he fumbled to check Rodney, numb fingers failing to find even a token heartbeat. He opened his eyes once more and just stared at Rodney, unsure of what to do or what to think. Then a crushing burst of anguish hit him in the chest as his dazed mind connected briefly with reality, seeing what appeared to be a death mask covering his friends face with finality.

His strength left him once again and he lowered his head until it touched the head of the other man, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as great sobs wracked his body.

*****

The scene that greeted the rescue crew from Atlantis was one of utter destruction. Not one of them would have bet a month worth of shore leave on the survival of either of the two men that had been in the mangled wreck before it hit the ground. When they did finally venture into the broken cabin, their worst fears seemed all but confirmed.

The tragic sight of the two broken men, ensconced together against the side of the broken jumper, had stopped them dead in their tracks. John was slumped sideways, his mangled arm twisted between him and the bulkhead he was leaning on, his other was draped across the body of Rodney McKay which lay half across his lap.

The scientist lay on his back, head and shoulders resting on Johns legs. His lower limbs sitting at grotesque angles, the trauma almost too much to look upon.

The rescuers stood quietly, holding their breaths, as Dr Carson Beckett approached and began to appraise the condition of both men. Gently placing a hand on Johns shoulder, he shook as much as he dared, waiting to see if he gained a response before raising his hand to check his pulse. He watched as Sheppard's eyes slowly flickered open and he lifted his head painfully slow to stare at him with eyes filled with so much sorrow and pain that it halted his hand mid air, making Carson's heart lurch with sympathy because of the intensity of emotion within those eyes.

The evidence of grief showed plainly in the tear and blood streaked face before him. His jaw clenched tightly around the scream Carson knew the Colonel wanted to unleash but wouldn't. The eyes are the windows to the soul and John Sheppard's soul had been truly crushed. As they now looked at Beckett, the doctor was positive they weren't really seeing him. He spoke words of comfort to him as the man faded back into the realms of oblivion. Carson caught him in his arms before he could do himself further injury, and laid him gently down before turning his attention to Rodney.

It was not until Carson started shouting orders that the the search team realised their first impressions had been wrong and that this was still indeed a rescue mission.

The memory of that particular mission would stay with each and everyone of them for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Carson Beckett closed the door to his office and slumped down in his chair, breathing out a long and weary sigh. He stared into space for a second, sad and exhausted, spent from his work in the operating rooms.

He and his team had spent a little over ten hours working on two of his friends, willing them to survive the horrors they had been through. It was one thing to work on a patient, it was a whole other experience working on a dying friend.

A quiet knock at his door announced the arrival of a much needed caffeine injection, his requested coffee, the nurse quietly setting it down with a smile and leaving silently.

Picking up his Dictaphone, he played with it for a while, turning it over and over in his hand. He knew he was better at dictating his notes now, as in a very short time he would be asleep and details would be lost if he didn't do this whilst it was fresh in his mind.

Rubbing his tired eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose, Carson let out a sigh then pressed the record button and began his dictation.

"August fifteenth, year five. Following an off world encounter with a wraith dart, Colonel John Sheppard and Doctor Rodney McKay were involved in a high impact crash in their Puddlejumper. Search and rescue took time as the gate in the system had been damaged by the fight and the Daedalus had to be used in order to retrieve both men." He paused the machine and gulped down half of the scalding mug of coffee, burning his tongue in the process.

"Subject one," he resumed. "Colonel John Sheppard. John showed signs of consciousness when we found him, and remained relatively stable en route to Atlantis. It was found that he had suffered more than one injury that required surgery. John had suffered a closed temporal skull fracture beneath which, lay a small extradural hematoma. The fracture itself allowed the hematoma to diminish and I believe that he will suffer very little in the way of brain injury. On discovery, he had a GCS of thirteen which has since risen to fourteen.

"The high impact trauma to John's head, resulted in a zygomatic fracture that required the insertion of three metal plates to stabilize. He suffered a broken nose that was reset. An oblique fracture of the left humerus required external fixation.

"Large laceration to the skin surrounding the humerus, query caused by falling debris, was debrided and closed using internal and external stitches. I believe that John Sheppard should make a good recovery from his injuries. There should be no lasting weakness or disfigurement from the trauma he suffered. At present he is still asleep, though not in coma, and I see this as a good sign."

He paused the machine again, lifting his coffee only to find the he'd emptied the cup. Pushing his chair back from his desk he rose and tried to rub the gritty dry sensation out of his eyes. First port of call will be the coffee machine, he thought. The next would be the pharmacy for some eye drops.

As he passed by the infirmary's entrance, he noted that Teyla and Ronon were standing in the doorway speaking to one of the night nurses, Joelle. He smiled at them and approached, gratefully accepting the nurses offer of a fresh coffee.

"Well?" Ronon asked in his usual gruff manner, but Carson was not fooled by this show of bravado. He could see the worry behind the tall mans eyes.

"We wait and see. John is in better condition, but…" He could not finish, lowering his eyes to the floor as if he were responsible for the anger that flushed Ronon's face.

Teyla lifted a hand to gently squeeze his shoulder.

"I am sure Carson has done all that is within his power, it is down to the ancestors now."

He squeezed her hand before she withdrew it to place it comfortingly on Ronon's back.

"Let me know when they wake up." The Satedan stated before he turned and walked away.

"Do not mind Ronon, Carson." Teyla said seeing the crestfallen look on his face. "He is merely worried for his friends, as we all are." She smiled, her strength pouring into him, revitalizing him and giving him the strength to continue his work.

"Thanks lass, I will call you as soon as anything changes." He said as he turned to the approaching nurse and took the coffee from her with a nod of appreciation and a whispered thank you.

Back in his office, Carson took a sip of the fresh coffee, taking smaller sips to avoid scolding his tongue again. He stretched out his back and heard the kinks pop before he sat down and began the task of dictating Rodney McKays medical notes.

"Subject two. Doctor Rodney McKay." His voice wavered and he stopped for a second, staring at the photo on his desk.

The photo had been taken during the last shared shore leave they had all enjoyed. Carson stood with his waders on, fishing rod in one hand, beer in the other, a huge smile on his face. Behind him, Rodney was facing away from the camera pointing at John while laughing so hard that he had held onto Teylas shoulder for support. Teyla was the picture of beauty, her smile so huge it was hard not to smile in return. John was sitting in the water, having fell over when turning to catch a fresh beer that Ronon had thrown him. Ronon was holding out a hand in order to help John up, the grin on his face priceless. John for his part, had tried to look angry, but there was no mistaking the smirk of mirth that shone in his eyes. And so they all were, frozen in a picture of happiness, caught in a moment of time where injuries and pain could never touch them.

He tore his eyes away from the photo and started to speak once more.

"Rodney McKay was unconscious when discovered. He suffered a cardiac arrest during transport and was successfully revived and stabilised en route to Atlantis.

He was suffering from hypovolemic shock due to massive blood loss, this was treated with a blood transfusion and the replacement of fluids.

"A large penetrating wound to the left torso was debrided then closed both internally and externally. It was noted while closing this wound that there was a small bowel perforation, which was duly irrigated, sutured then the wound was closed. Broad spectrum antibiotics have been given and he is being monitored for signs of infection. Query whether the perforation occurred after the original injury as peritonitis had not set in. Rodney's legs held multiple fractures which required a combination of external and internal fixation. There has been signs of muscle damage but full extent will not be known until a physio can assess him post-fixator removal.

"On discovery he had a GCS of four, currently sitting at seven " He stared at the photo again, biting his bottom lip which trembled slightly. "Rodney McKay is currently in a coma state, with no sign of purposeful movements as yet.

"The possibility of a brain injury due to a combination of the cardiac arrest and the blood lost is considerably high. We are also monitoring his kidney function as a precaution but no renal problems have been detected.

"Due to the condition of his legs, there is a strong possibility that Rodney McKay may never walk again...should he survive and waken." His eyes refused to leave the people frozen in the photo. Rodney laughing so freely, John pretending he didn't find it funny. He just hoped this was not the last time he would see the faces before him, happy and alive.

*****

When John first woke up, it was to guilt and grief that left him feeling hollow and empty. Rodney's death hung on his still drugged mind as it replayed over and over in his head. Watching those expressive blue eyes close had been one of the hardest things he had had to witness in his entire life, realising that it would be the last time he would see his friend alive.

His thoughts shifted to himself, noting that just about every part of him had that dull throb that came with medicated pain, but his mind would not allow him to wallow in self pity, returning instead to the painful memories of Rodney's final moments.

He stared at the ceiling for some time before he realised someone was hovering around his bed, so he pushed his feelings to the back of his mind and erected the facade of a good little soldier as was expected of him.

"Good God lad, you had us all worried for a while there. When you didn't check in they tried dialing the gate but couldn't connect. Took us two days to get to you on the Daedalus." It was Carson, his words tumbled out and relief eased the lines of his face. John tried to smile but didn't think he pulled off more than a grimace, judging by the concerned look on the doctor's face. Carson's eyes flickered toward his left arm. It was only then that John noticed the metal contraption that held his arm in place.

"That was not the worst we had to fix. You had a skull fracture amongst other things. You're a very lucky man."

John just shook his head, his eyes betraying his thoughts.

"What is it son?...John?"

"I'm not so lucky, Doc." He said quietly, his voice hoarse and raw.

"You are alive, aren't you?"

"Yeah." John turned his head away from Carson so that he no longer had to see him. "Yeah, I am."

"You should be thankful you never lost your life lad, it was very touch and go as it was."

"Yeah, but I lost something else." He murmured, still unable to look at the doc.

"What did you lose son? I put you back together as best I could, I don't think I forgot anything. Not like those torches I took apart as a child, there was always something left at the end that I never knew where to put." Carson said, trying to infuse some humor into the heavy conversation.

Then it dawned on the good doctor. "Rodney?" He asked, watching as John's shoulders stiffened bringing a grunt of pain from his tight lips.

"John, Rodney's alive."

It took about twenty seconds for Carson's words to permeate his confused brain.

"Alive?"

Carson nodded. "Aye, Lad."

"But he had no pulse, he died on the planet!" John said, remembering the moment he thought Rodney was dead.

Carson shook his head "His pulse was so weak that even I had trouble finding it. The state you were in, I would be surprised if you could even feel your own pulse. Look for yourself son." Carson drew back a curtain and there lay the man he had thought was lost. He was wired to machines that breathed for him, fed him and monitored him, beeping and wooshing continuously in a constant rhythm.

He was bandaged and casted but John smiled regardless, just happy to see the man alive. The smile faltered as his mind registered the fact that Rodney was only breathing because of the machine that pumped air into his lungs.

Carson seemed to read his thoughts and sighed.

"He is alive, but I am not sure if he will be himself when he wakes up." He lowered his head. "If, he wakes up."

"What..?"

"He lost so much blood before we got there. His heart was almost silently beating its last when we pulled him from you. It stopped once on the way back to Atlantis, but we managed to get him back and keep him with us. His injures are quite horrific, and complications from the blood loss...well it's a wait and see game that we're playing now." He stopped when he realised he was rambling and upsetting John with the account of his friends condition.

"He wasn't strapped in when we hit the ground. He'd been doing...something...I can't remember." John whispered, remembering shouting to Rodney to strap in.

"Well that explains why he is in such a state. But you know Rodney, always has a way of bouncing back. He'll be awake by tomorrow, just you wait and only so he can annoy the heck out of you." Carson said in an attempt to comfort John.

John tried to smile but failed, closing his eyes as Carson wandered away to check on his other patient.

*****

Despite Carson's prediction, Rodney McKay did not waken the next day, nor did he in the next week. All the prayers and good will in Atlantis could not help the sleeping scientist wake from his deep slumber.

People came and went, leaving cards and well wishes for both men and John would sit there forcing interest in them and thanking them for their kind words, but he fooled no one.

The days dragged out in long hours of boredom and worry. He never was the best patient, in a way he was worse than McKay though he would never admit it. Where McKay reveled in being poorly, bordering on that of a hypochondriac, John hated it. Hated the way it made him feel, weak, pitied and depressed. But he would give anything to lay here now and listen to McKay ramble on about how poorly he was feeling. He would gladly stay in the medical wing for a month, if only to hear McKay shout at the nurses or jokingly debase Carson's profession. He would even happily amputate his broken arm just to see McKay sit up and smile.

 

 _"Right. Look, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like you to read my eulogy."_

 

John remembered feeling absolutely horrified when Rodney had asked him that. He had felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach as he looked at Rodney that day, standing there telling him what to say in the event of his death. He had not wanted to even think about Rodney leaving them then. Had even been angry with Rodney for thinking about leaving them.

But as he lay there listening to the beeping of the machines that were monitoring his friend, he realised that all too soon, he may have to do his friend that honor.

He watched every day as Carson's enthusiasm grew less and less, though he tried not to show it. He noted that the ward seemed to have an air of expectancy, though he was unsure as to what it was they expected.

Then one day, something happened.

Machines began to frantically scream, sending the ward into a frenzied panic as people rushed towards Rodney. A nurse pulled the curtain quickly around the bed, hiding what was happening behind it.

John's heart raced as his mouth went dry. This was it. This was the moment that the whole place had been waiting for. He could hear Carson speaking, too low for him to hear the words clearly, watched as a nurse run out from behind the curtain to grab something, then return to disappear behind the folds of the fabric screen once more.

Then all he heard was silence. For a few moments he just sat there, the fingers of his right hand toying with the sheet that covered his legs, as he waited for something, anything to break the silence. His eyes squeezed shut as he heard footsteps approach him, his head shaking back and forth in a nervous denial of what would soon be.

"John?" He felt the hand on his shoulder, knew that Carson had come to break the news, but he would not open his eyes. If he didn't look, it wouldn't be real.

"John. He's awake."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

 _Eight months later._

John stood with his back to the 'jumper, flexing his arm in a rhythm that eased the tightness within it. Passing the time with exercises that had become second nature after months of physiotherapy. His arm, although fully healed, was a far cry from being back to normal. Every now and again he would turn it a certain way and the resultant pain could bring tears to his eyes, but it was a small price to pay considering the alternative of losing the limb completely.

He stared out at the scene before him, noting that McKay was still no where in sight, but this did not bother him. McKay had decided he wanted to be alone for a short while and had informed John that he would meet him back at the jumper. John content to wait, sunning himself and just taking a moment to see, actually see, what they have all been fighting to save these past few years. He sighed happily as he sat down and lay back against the open hatch of the puddlejumper, listening to the man in black crooning from the small stereo that McKay had rigged for him for just such trips as these.

Running his hand through his messy hair, his fingers brushed over the semi circular scar just above his hairline. The scar was almost invisible though it grew no hair, but this added to his normal funky bedhead, as McKay calls it, and who was he to argue if a slight blemish added to his perfected look.

Carson had kept him busy with physiotherapy and such for the last few months, only signing him back onto the duty roster nine weeks ago. It wasn't easy going back to active duty, fighting the damn near paralysing fear and the genuine physical pain that seemed to bite at him every day. But the fears and doubts were fading and he was slowly getting back into the rhythm of things.

The first time he had boarded a puddlejumper after the crash he'd suffered a panic attack that had scared him, and Teyla who had been with him, witless. It had started out as a nervous sweat and a slight anxiety as he entered the jumper bay. Five minutes later Teyla was speaking in soothing tones and calling Carson for some assistance.

Over the next few weeks he began to relax and although the fear remained, his love of flying won out. He started out with simple trips, first just circling Atlantis, later trips to the mainland. The final hurdle was gating offworld. Every time he exited a gate, his eyes scoured the area around him, warily, expecting a surprise attack that never came. This would be one of the lasting after effects of the crash, but he did not mind if it would prevent a similar accident happening again.

Sometimes, especially when he was cold, he still suffered after effects with his head and face. A sharp pain in his head could at times take his breath away, while his face would begin to tingle like when circulation returns to a limb you've slept on. This he could deal with, as at the end of the day, he was lucky to be here, and still be him. All the niggles in the world could not make him hate being alive, though.

One of the things that had changed for the worst was his team. McKay no longer sat beside him on missions, and this one thing caused John the most pain. It had been difficult for him to accept a replacement for Rodney on the team, instantly taking a deep dislike to the change in the teams dynamics until reminded, on a regular basis, it was not the new recruits fault.

Sheppard made the new team members life hell, no matter how often Rodney explained to him he was better with him than anyone else he might be given. Not that Radek complained, he fully understood it, and he wanted Rodney back where he belonged as much as the rest of the team.

It wasn't Radeks presence on the team that bothered him, hell the little czech was just as qualified as McKay. It was more the fact that he missed the way McKay could pull a rabbit out of the hat when all else failed; missed the snarking and the barking; missed his friend.

It was this reason he spent as much time with him when he was off duty as he could, enjoying the company he craved on missions. He remembered all too clearly the feeling of loss he had felt when he thought that Rodney died in his arms. He still dreamed he could hear Rodney speaking to him on the planet while he lay injured. He remembered and wholeheartedly agreed with his declaration of brotherhood for McKay, and was pretty sure that Rodney felt the same way for him, cementing the close bond between them even more.

The song changed again and John smiled, noticing Rodney making his way down the road towards the jumper.

 _"You won't have far to go, if you want me. 'Cause I'm gonna stick close to you.  
And I'm not the kind to say I told you so, look for me, you won't have far to go."_

As the song played on, John saw a new meaning in the words. He would always be there whenever Rodney needed him, he would never leave him. Truth was he felt responsible for Rodney's current condition, but more than that, he would stick by him as that was what friends and family do.

Though it pained him to see Rodney struggle so much, he knew better than to help him without first being asked. McKay always refused help, getting angry when someone even tried to touch the wheelchair. He'd explained it as someone trying to take what little control remained to him away. His face would turn red with fury as he'd curse silently at whoever broke this unspoken rule.

John closed his eyes as Rodney neared the jumper, knowing that it made the scientist uncomfortable when people stared. He waited there, basking in the sun, humming along with the song as it played in the background.

Rodney propelled the chair along the well trodden path, glad to be free of the day to day life in the city but also glad that he was almost to the jumper that would return him there. He could see John leaning back against the jumper, apparently having drifted off to sleep while listening to that stuff he called music. Rodney never really understood the big thing with Johnny Cash, though there were a few lyrics that did make sense to him.

There came a thud from behind him and he stopped pushing, his shoulders dropped in exasperation and he ground his teeth in irritation. He knew it was that damn rucksack, as it had been falling off all afternoon after he'd broken one of the catches.

He kept his laptop and a flask of hot coffee in the rucksack that hung over the back of his chair. Luckily the laptop was also in an impact sleeve, so he didn't worry about its safety. Turning the chair, he reached forward and lifted the bag, placing it on his knees just till he got to the Jumper. He pulled and straightened the gloves he wore to protect his hands from the blisters that he could so easily develop whilst pushing the big wheels, then continued on his way back to the jumper.

He hated this damn chair so much, but it was his only way of getting around now. It had been quite a blow for him to be told that his mangled legs may never work properly again, but he was determined to prove Carson wrong, fully believing that he would walk again one day.

He tried to make his movements in the chair look effortless, as if this wasn't an inconvenience for him, as if the chair was only an extension to his body. He hated the pity he saw in other peoples eyes, especially on the days when he felt that Carson was probably right. To him, this thing that he was forced to sit in, to use, was merely an aid until the day he regained his full mobility. A mode of transport, no different than using a bike.

When he had woken from his coma, his first instinct was to grab his thighs, the agony that exploded up and down his lower limbs almost pushed him back into the darkness. The pain was still there, though with the help of the medication it had diminished, if only marginally. The dosage of vicodin he was on would be enough to send most men into next week without a clue as to what had happened in between, but for him it barely made the pain tolerable. Yet he never moaned, or used it to garner sympathy. To complain would be to admit defeat and give in to the concept that his legs would always be useless.

The first few days awake had been terrifying. Noises from machines that seemed to follow him into sleep, adding to the nightmares he was already suffering. Tubes snaked around him, carrying things to and from his body, taking over the functions that should come naturally to him. But it was his legs that were the worst of it all, they repulsed him, he could not bring himself to look at them without being brought to tears, and the one thing Rodney McKay wasn't was a cry-baby. He stoically ignored them and anyone who mentioned them. That was until he was forced to look as he struggled through his physiotherapy sessions.

His head had felt as if it had been hit by an asteroid that just kept coming back for another strike for weeks afterwards. Carson had explained both the headaches and emotional instability as a side effect of the head injury, and that in time they would dissipate.

The one thing that surprised him was the wound that had almost claimed his life was the least troublesome of his ailments, the wound in his side. It took a while for him to laugh without feeling like his side would split open, not that there was much to laugh about to begin with, but he got there and learned to laugh again with his team, his family.

When McKay left the infirmary for the first time, depression set in within minutes. He was to be fitted for a state of the art wheel chair, but until it arrived he had to put up with being pushed around in a generic claptrap of a chair subject to pitying looks and mindless staring.

Rodney took to spending more and more time in his room, alone, isolating himself from everyone who cared and anyone who would see his disability instead of him. He even avoided John, knowing that he had said so much on the planet that he truly meant, but never ever would have been said if he knew anyone was listening, not that John had mentioned anything.

Going on missions were at present an impossibility, he would not be signed back onto the team until he wasn't a liability and this alone had made him more miserable than he had ever been. All that he was allowed was a few hours a day working in the labs with Radek and the science team. But Radek was often on the away missions that Rodney so desperately craved; the thrill of exploring the galaxy or simply just enjoying the company of his team mates; to work his brain into a frenzy with ideas. Without these things his depression spiraled to the point of Carson adding an anti-depressant to his daily regimen of drugs.

Then John had knocked on his door three months after the accident. He refused to accept the do not disturb sign and bypassed the doors lock anyway. Sheppard had walked straight in and sat down on the bed next to the scientist, not allowing Rodney to even start objecting.

"Right, so I'm heading out to the mainland, and I know you love their Kankberry pie. So, grab your stuff, get into your chair and meet me in the Jumper bay in fifteen."

Then, as quickly as had come, he got up and left, leaving Rodney sitting there with his mouth agape.

John was the one person he could depend upon to treat him like a human being and completely overlook his disability. At least once a week, John made time for Rodney. Whether they decided to go to another planet for a few hours or simply over to the mainland to enjoy that Athosian dessert he loved so much, he made sure not to let McKay feel left out or a burden.

Rodney finally made it back to the jumper and sat there absolutely shattered. He saw John slit his eyes open and knew then that he had not been asleep, but he did appreciate the fact that he did these kinds of things just to make him feel comfortable.

John yawned and looked towards Rodney, slowly getting to his feet.

"So you finally made it huh? And I was enjoying my nap, too." He said jokingly, reaching for the rucksack that Rodney was now holding out to him.

The Colonel stood to the side giving Rodney the room he needed to maneuver into the back of the jumper, knowing better than to offer him help, and closed the Jumper door as he followed McKay into the cockpit. He turned in time to watch as Rodney transferred himself into the co-pilots chair with a practiced ease. He noted the quick tug and click as Rodney put his crash belt on, painfully aware that had his friend done so the day they had crashed, he would be walking now.

John knew that Rodney would be asleep before they left the planets atmosphere, he still tired quickly from the exertion of moving himself around in the wheelchair, as well as the effects of his pain medication. But he was used to the silent journeys by now.

The silence killed John the most. It was the other reason that McKay was no longer able to go on missions, his inability to speak could be disastrous should something bad occur.  
Carson believed Rodney's voice could return, that it may have been lost through shock rather than brain injury, but this did not change the fact that Rodney McKay could no longer speak.

Every now and again Rodney would open his mouth to say something, only to shut it again in frustration at the lack of any vocalisation. Although conversation was possible, through the use of paper and pen or a tablet, John missed the quickfire retorts. All conversations had to be on McKay's terms now, if he was caught without his mouthpieces he would refuse to even participate in the conversation, simply turning and propelling his chair to the nearest terminal.

Not that McKay had any problems expressing his thoughts. The man could tell you exactly what he was thinking by merely looking at you. It was those eyes, those big expressive eyes that could convey so much emotion it was shocking. None of his intelligence or his snarky moods had been affected by the injury, and he went to great lengths to make sure everyone knew this.

Rodney was alive and John was thankful for that, no matter what he could or couldn't do. He knew that one day there was the possibility, albeit remote, that McKay would once again sit beside him on away missions, and he looked forward to that day.

As John took the jumper higher he noticed Rodney's folded arms slowly lose their tension, relaxing, until they fell from his lap as his body gave into its need for sleep. John smiled, impressed that McKay had managed to make it out of the atmosphere this time before the purr of his friends snoring began. He was getting stronger with each passing day.

As usual on trips home, John was at his happiest. Not because they were headed home, but because it was the only time he heard his friends voice.

For in his dreams, Rodney McKay could speak as well as he ever could and John knew that one day, once he felt comfortable enough, he would find his voice in the waking world and they would talk the way they used to.

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The End... :D

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 _Hope you enjoyed! I need comments like the cookie monster needs cookies. FEED ME! :D_


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